A Calling
by marycasa13
Summary: Did I say on the floor? STAND UP!" This wasn't your typical bank robbery.
1. Chapter 1

A Calling

"Everybody freeze! Come on, come on, put your hands up cuz it's a party!" Grasping my gun lazily, I watched with satisfaction as all the occupants of the bank took a mad, desperate dive for the floor.

"Did I say 'on the floor?!' STAND UP!" They all stood quickly, gasping and whimpering.

"Good, goooood!" I drew out my words in a teasing sing-song voice, cackling. From this point on, they were my puppets. And boy oh boy, was I gonna put on a SHOW!

I walked a large circle, making sure to stare down anyone I passed. In my head, I counted the seconds it took for them to break. Fragile, fragile creatures we are, us humans. But I need not worry, I was already broken! Dear old Dad, who I buried in my old back yard almost five years ago…under the swings I believe…well, he tore away my hope a looong time ago! I was SAFE! But these people? Their pathetically innocent minds weren't safe at all. As for their bodies? Well, I was gonna break them too. Maybe even crack a few _smiles._

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As I nearly completed my scenic tour of the bank, hee hee hee, I saw a teenage boy I hadn't noticed before, lurking in the corner. I approached him menacingly with cat-like speed, and he made a dart for the panic button on the wall behind him. I took a leap, grabbed his wrist, and pressed a knife to his throat. My gun was now holstered at my side. I had no use for it now, and anyway, I liked my knife better. Using it felt more...personal.

The boy didn't even flinch, he didn't even blink at me. Instead he stared at my makeup and scars with awe and fascination. I would never show it, but in an odd, twisted way he fascinated me too. So, with a frightful smirk, I decided to test him.

"Do you want to know how I got these scars?" I let my smile contort into a sickly grin, knowing that it emphasized the very scars I was talking about. I waited for his reaction, and he surprised me! Funny, I didn't know I could be surprised.

With his free hand, the boy reached up to his forehead, and brushed his hair away from his left eye, so I could clearly see the brutal, thick scar running down it. The pink, jagged line began at his eyebrow, cut through it even, and stopped just below his eye, abruptly. I imagined his eyelid to have scaring also. I admit it, I was impressed. His response to my question though, well that impressed me even more.

With a practiced, even tone, still holding his hair back, he asked harshly, "Wanna know how I got mine?"

TBC

A/N: some minor improper grammar use in the quotes of this story is intended. I simply use it to convey a more accurate, natural speech pattern in my characters. Sorry to anyone who just sees it as laziness, and I also apologize if it bothers you. Thanks for reading! :) please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Oooo, I like you!" I exclaimed, giddy, squeezing the boys cheeks the way an overbearing aunt would to an adorable toddler. The boy blinked, and this time had the sense to cringe.

"Hee hee!" I screeched, "Funny thing is I don't care about how you got that scar! I just looooove that you have it! HA!"

"Well my scars aren't as sickening as yours, clown man." The boy commented, a mixture of humor and defiance in the face of what he believed to be his upcoming death. He was a little too...sassy for me. I didn't like it one bit. So I slapped him in the face, sudden and hard.

"I said I liked you, I didn't say you were invincible!" I exclaimed, then narrowed my eyes, "You have to pass a test first, ok smart boy? That ALRIGHT with you?" I was threatening him now, and took pleasure in the fact that he wasn't so calm and cool anymore. He nodded, his cheek twitching nervously. 'Twitchy', hee! That was his new name now. I giggled.

"Alrighty then! First some open ended questions, now those are always fun! I used to fail them when I was in school!"

I grabbed the boy's hair, brought his face up to me a bit, tilted his chin, and almost...caressed his scar.

"First question," I stated, seriously for once, "Where's your mommy? Why are you here?"

"That's two questions." The boy sad softly. I guess he was unable to control his smart-alecky nature. I yanked his hair, hard. His scream was loud and high pitched. It's echo shook in my chest, toyed with me, left me wanting more.

"Answer the questions smart ass!" I snarled at him. He whimpered, but then straightened up to his full height, cleared his throat and looked me dead in the eye again. I almost admired his courage. In fact, I would've, if he didn't have a little sissy tear running down his cheek. Heh.

"My mother," he emphasized his name for her, "is wherever the hell she wants to be, because to her I don't exist as more than daddy's punching bag. He comes home late at night while she's out drinking and beats me." He narrowed his eyes, but he didn't look angry. Was he PLAYING with me? He demanded harshly, "I bet you like that don't you? Can you picture me on the floor, bleeding?" There was a lost bitterness about his questions.

I just grinned, flashing my teeth. This kid was funny! Maybe he could be of use to me, but first,

"AAAH!" He cried out as I gave his hair one more yank. And sucha full head of hair it was...

"You forgot the second question, dearie. Why are you HERE?"

"I-I'm here to empty out my savings, and run away. Wouldn't you?" He said, fearful but still snippy. What was with this kid?!

"Oh, I did get away," I droned lazily, "Only I did so much MORE too!" He looked a tiny bit interested, but I left him hanging.

"Listen kid." Ha! Kid! He was too jaded to be a true kid, but he sure was stupid enough to be one! "What's your name?" It was more of a command then a question.

"Layne."

"Layne? Hm. Okay Layne, here's the next part of your test. We're going to play a little game. If you lose, you die with everyone else, and if you win...well maybe you won't!" I laughed genuinely, if only for a brief second.

"And then maybe you'll come with me. What do you say to being Joker's little helper?" Before he could speak, I forcibly nodded his head. "No, don't say anything," I urged mockingly, placing my gun in his shacking hands.

"Let this beautiful baby right here do the talking."

He shivered, gripping the pistol tightly.

My eyes glinted with mirth and anticipation, and I asked tantalizingly,

"Ready to play?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"H-how do I play?" Layne held the gun in his hands like it was both a precious jewel and a bomb, ready to go off at any second.

"It's simple, " I said gleefully, "You just lead a little game of Simon says!" My eyes lost their humorous glow and narrowed, "You're Simon."

The boy shivered, "What should I make them do?"

"Whatever you want, Layney boy! Just make sure I get some amusement off of it." I giggled maniacally. I couldn't wait to see what this kid could do. He was so...unique, compared to all those other boring and stupid people out there, and with a little coaxing I bet I could get him to show his...funny side.

"Oook" Layne was gaining back some of his lovely courage again, "Any rules?"

"Losers don't leave this place alive..." I let that soak in for a moment, then continued, smirking as he whimpered. "But I wont make you kill...yet. You DO have to play rough though, and make it interesting. I'm a very hard person to please. Hee hee hee." I would've bust a gut laughing right then and there, but I controlled myself. The game hadn't even begun yet, I could save that for later. I watched as Layne's eyes glazed over with doubt, then gleamed with possibilities. He liked the idea of power, I could tell, and I bet it was because he had none when he was back home. I knew the feeling, but grinned in triumph anyway.

I moved to stand behind him, grabbed his shoulders, then whispered, "Go!" I shoved him forwards harshly, then watched; waited. After a few moments I became impatient. He was just STANDING THERE! Like an IMBECILE! I growled. If all he could do was stand there and watch his potential...subjects, then maybe he needed some encouragement.

"Oh," I called over to him, for the first time loud enough for the crowd to hear, who all at the same time turned to face him and flinched, oblivious to Layne in their horror, "If you don't start the game soon, you become just another player!" I grinned wickedly as he faced me, "And I make a very good Simon." I could tell I struck a nerve there. Perfect!

"I can be better," he half growled, have murmured. And then his eyes were closed, and there was a bang.

All eyes were turned to him now, and as he walked towards the center of the room, I began to clap.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Layne's POV**

I turned to face my...well, what was he to me, really? My captor? No...my mentor. I wanted to laugh at my twisted thought, both because it actually amused me and because I never thought I could come up with it. I looked at him intently, confusion and for some reason shame flooding across my face. Why was he clapping? Was he mocking me? I got my answer...sort of, when he looked up at the small hole the bullet I had put into the ceiling made (I had put it there, I shot the gun! The very thought made me excited). He laughed joyfully and whistled, seemingly impressed. I couldn't really tell.

"Very good! Very good! Now start the game before I get bored! Hee hee." He stopped clapping and leaned against the wall, waiting for the show.

My insides churned and seemed to be filled up with butterflies, and I felt like I was going to vomit. I decided there was only one thing I could do: Play along. Maybe...just maybe, I would enjoy it! NO! I wanted to turn the gun on MYSELF for such a thought, but I didn't. Instead, in a bout of irony I decided to turn my anger at myself into anger at these people. Because I HATED hating myself. But hating others...well I guess I knew how to do that. I let out a growl. It was now or never. I approached the counters, where it seemed every man and women, even a few children (who I hoped to be able to leave unharmed) were conveniently lined up. They were still standing, but with great difficulty. Surprising even myself, I gave them all a quick once over with piercing eyes, and laughed. Laughed! Just what had I become?

"Everybody get down on the floor!" Everyone took another dive for the floor, almost glad for the order. They looked tired. Tired of their fear, and tired of all the waiting. It was then I had an idea. An idea I was shocked and embarrassed to come up with, but a damn good idea none the less. I fired another shot, this time into one of the glass plated teller booths lining the counters, and said bravely, almost childishly,

"Ah.ah.ah! Did I say Simon says?" Everyone looked up at me, almost in unison, terrified. I couldn't blame them. I wasn't the wimp now, I wasn't the punching bag. I was scary...SCARY! I leaned down in front of a particularly shaky man and waited for him to look up at me, then punched him dead in the nose. It was horrifying AND satisfying to watch his eyes roll back in his head as he blacked out. I wanted to cry...but that sinister part of me that was quickly emerging wanted to kick him, hit him again! Just because I could.

"Did you see that guys? You have to pay attention! Anyone forgets to listen carefully again, and I'll- well I'll take ALL of you out. And maybe I won't be so...gentle." That's right. Maybe I'll be as brutal as my father. Because I was pretending that man was my father. That's the only reason I enjoyed hurting him, the ONLY reason. I was having a hard time convincing myself. A few men in the far corner started shouting and crying out in outrage, horror. The woman laying next to the man started to cry.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Simon says SHUT UP! Didn't you're teachers ever teach you that you're supposed to listen when someone is speaking?" All in one loud, desperate sentence I showed my fear and the strange feelings I got at the sound of someone crying. I never liked the sound of crying...my mom used to cry. A lot. In that very same sentence I mocked my teachers too, because my teachers never seemed to even notice when I came to school bloodied and shaking!

I kicked none-too-gently at a random dude's head as I paced lazily , gun at my side. Then I went back to the man, who was just regaining consiousness. Maybe this is how I would get back at them. My "friends", my father, my mother...the world! Maybe this was my calling. I felt...safe, I felt at peace, and I felt Powerful!

And then the gun didn't feel so foreign in my hands anymore, and I turned around to view my mentor expectantly. He was smiling broadly, wiping a tear of laughter off of his made-up face. I think...I think I made him proud.

I turned back again and pointed the gun, but this time I took aim, and as I fired the Joker gave a booming laugh behind me.

The man lay still again, and my blood ran cold.

He's gone and I did it.

He reminded me of my father.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Layne kicked the dead man's body and then collapsed, slumping down into a sitting position with his head in his hands. I rushed over to him, skipping merrily but quickly. I would've taken my sweet old time if he hadn't dropped the gun. Couldn't let anyone grab THAT now could we? I crouched down beside him, scooped up the gun and tapped him on the forehead with the butt of it. Twice. I cackled. The little baby was crying! How adorable! I growled in disgust and yanked his head up, only to be shocked speechless (well for a split second at least, HA) when I saw he was actually LAUGHING, giggling like mad! I giggled along with him for a moment, out of habit, but them smacked him gently (or not so gently...) on both of his cheeks.

"What's so funny?" I demanded, I didn't need this kid's screws becoming too lose! Then he wouldn't be useful anymore!

"He looked like my father," Layne giggled. Ooooo this was interesting.

"Why'd you kill him then, huh? HA HA! Is THAT why?!" I asked loudly, grinning. He nodded, babbling almost incoherently, "Just like my father, like my father, my father, my father..."

"SHUT UP!" I boomed, quickly shoving my hand against the boys mouth. I used my other hand to fire the gun randomly. Whether the bullet hit anyone I neither knew, nor cared, but it had the desired effect. Along with the rest of the shaky people in the room, Layne cried out in fear. He slumped forward, allowing me to remove my hand from his mouth and ease him down so he was halfway across my lap. I risked putting down the gun and gripped his head tight, turning it up to face me.

"Shhh! Relax, relax." I was pleased when Layne calmed almost instantly.

"Good boy!" I laughed and shoved him off of me. He sprawled backwards but scrambled up to a sitting position almost instantly. Then he looked me dead in the eye, eerily grinning. I grinned back and asked, "Now tell me, my precious toy, how did it all feel? The power, the glory, the PAIN?"

My tone was both sincere and mocking and I relished in the unique sound of it. It was so...ME! I chuckled heartily, but stopped when Layne narrowed his eyes, let the grin slip off of his face, but then brought it back abruptly, bigger than ever.

"It felt...good!" He said in wonder, and we both laughed.

"That's great! You passed the test, you WON the GAME! We can be roomies! Hee hee!" I sprang up quickly and heaved him up to his feet.

"But what about my money? Shouldn't I get that first?" He asked, no longer afraid but almost a bit shy. My eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, you won't need money with me." He nodded quickly at me, eager to please, and I loved it. I grinned evilly at him and spoke again, "Now no offence Layney, but I can't have you annoying me or risking anything on the way home..." I trailed off.

Then I picked up the gun again, swung at his head, and knocked him out cold.


	7. Chapter 7

1

Chapter 7

I felt sick, and my head was all fuzzy. Was that a bump I felt...? Where was I? Some old apartment? "Ahhh" I moaned, shutting my eyes tight when the light became too much. After a minute or two I squinted through the hazy room, spotting the Joker in the corner. He was staring out the window, aimlessly shuffling a deck of cards. I almost laughed, but it came out as more of a moan.

Joker POV

When I heard my new toy return to consciousness I eagerly went over to the couch to...greet him.

"Wakey wakey sunshine! How are you FEEEEELING?!" I screeched.

"Owww, stop it," Layne moaned, covering his ears, "My head..."

"WHAT? I'm a little DEAF, can't hear your MUMBLING!" I shouted, giggling.

"Oh will you SHUT UP!" Oooo, he was feisty. If I wasn't in such a good mood I would've knocked him out again. He slumped back down on the couch, muttering,

"Man, I need some Advil."

In a moment of sheer spontaneity, I leaped up, startling him. I then grabbed a gun and two knifes from a nearby shelf. I pocketed my knife and chucked the other in his general direction. He swore and dove off the couch in an attempt to dodge it, and to my amusement it pinned the leg of his pants to the cushion.

"Are you CRAZY?!" He exclaimed, unsheathing the knife from its...pillowy holder.

"Only always!" I laughed, "Now grab the knife and come with me." I tossed the gun in his lap and he stood, wobbly.

"Where are we going?"

"Gotham drugstore of course, to get your weakling medicine. And to get me some new cards!" I clapped my hands together and he glanced at the piles and piles of cards laying all over the floor.

"I think you have enough..." He hid a snicker with a well timed cough.

"Yea, yea, but I'm running out of Jokers!" I exclaimed happy, leaping into the air with ease.

"Ok. So we're...stealing them?" Layne shook his already pounding head.

Silly boy.

"Well yeah, do you think I keep MONEY around here?!"

He moaned in pain again and droned, "Well no, but..." I cut him off and dragged him out the door with me.

"Gooood, your learning. Now can you drive?"

"Noooo..."

"Oopsie! Well I guess you gotta learn sometime! Dontcha?" I laughed merrily, and his protests of "but my head..." and "I don't know about this..." were completely lost on me in spiraling merry-go-round of enjoyment.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Layne's POV_

I almost killed both of us on the ride over, swerving in and out of traffic like a madman (Joker was at my side, laughing like one), but we were finally at the drugstore.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered. The Joker chuckled, smacking me on the shoulder mock affectionately, but with great force.

"Believe it boy, because if you screw this up, it's the last thing you'll EVER do! Hee hee."

I hated how he would laugh after everything he said. I could never tell if he was joking or not. Well, he _was _the joker...I decided not to worsen my chances of living a full life by testing my mentor. Instead, I tucked the gun in the back of my pants (knowing with my plan I wouldn't need it), pulled my shirt over it, and leaned up against the side of the building, mimicking him. I was nervous. So nervous, in fact, that nothing seemed to fascinate me more than the gleaming blade in my hand. It was just so..._shiny._ The Joker sensed my distraction and screeched at me,

"Snap out of it, Simon-_boy_, before I shove that pretty blade in your eye socket! We're going in."

I followed him as he turned around the corner and entered the fairly small building with a dramatic SLAM, smashing the door open.

_Jokers POV_

"Well hello everyone! Lovely day isn't it? Don't worry, we're just here to..._grab _a few things." I yanked the cashier from behind the counter and threw him, weak and quivering, to the floor. Then I carefully kneeled down beside him, grabbing his throat, applying more and more pressure until his eyes rolled into the back of his head. I hissed out a mocking, hissing laugh. Snake-like almost.

"Now nobody...move." I spoke slowly and quietly, relishing in the fact that the handful of people in the store were shaking, straining to hear my oh so_ important_ words. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Layne come up beside me, tossing the a dozen bottles of aspirin and just as many decks of playing cards in a pile on the floor. Good boy. I stood up, slowly still, putting everyone in the room even more on edge. Now let's see what he'll do next...

Layne began pacing frantically, looking back an forth at me, and then the group of terrified people. I grinned at him sickly, knowing that such a disturbing action would be encouragement to him. He nodded at me, turned to his new toys, and said loud enough to make them jump, but calmly still,

"Line up."

They all did so, scampering this way and that, until they we're shoulder to shoulder. Layne walked down the line like a drill sergeant; looking them all dead in the eye, making them flinch.

"I'm Simon. Understood??" They all just looked at each other, capable of idiocy and confusion even in what was most likely their last moments. It amused me so much that I actually covered my mouth in laugher. Normally, I would've let it all come out. But it was the boy's turn to have fun, I respected that.

"UNDERSTOOD?" He shouted, desperately. There was a whole chorus of squeaky, "yes"'s and panicked "yes, sir!"'s. To my surprise, this did not make Layne happy, it just pissed him off.

"Did I _tell_ you to speak? No, no I didn't. Now Simon SAYS, lay all your valuables in front of you. Quickly!" They did so without any hesitation, and without Simon's cue I went over and helped him scoop them up, throw them in our pile.

"Well done, Simon..." I said, beaming evilly, "Well done!"

"Yea," He only said, at first. But then, "I'm not done with them yet."

So I watched as Simon said get back in line, watched as Simon's pawns ran around the store like mad, and watched as they were commanded to stop, by their laughing coach. I watched them follow their last command, to lay down, face up and prone on the cold tile floor.

"Simon says keep your eyes open." Layne murmured, walking down the line and admiring his handiwork, brandishing his knife. He cut their eyelids, so that they could never close them again.

But I couldn't let my little apprentice have all the fun...

In the end, it was their bloody, eternal smiles that killed them.


	9. Chapter 9

CH 9

"You're a freak, like me, you know that?" I grinned slyly at the boy as we walked back to my place, well, at least my place for the moment. I...travel a lot. We decided to ditch the car because, frankly, after enjoying the killing of so many others, why kill ourselves too?

It wasn't like I payed for it either; and blowing it up was fun.

Layne mindlessly kicked a can on the sidewalk, sending it at least fifteen feet. That same foot could probably kick any given law obeying citizen's head in. I'd buy (and sell) tickets to see that! I chuckled out loud at the thought, and Layne glared at me before saying huffily,

"How do you know that's not you're fault? Technically I'm a freak, BECAUSE of you, jerk."

"Ooooo, I'm shaking in my lavender trench coat!" I giggled out, maniacally. Shaking the boys shoulder playfully.

"You know that's bull. Layney, Layney, Layney. Or should I say Simon. You were a freak from the first moment you're mommy came home drunk. The first punch your daddy laid you out wi- HEY!"

Suddenly I was sporting a bloody nose, and Layne was going in for another hit. I quickly wrestled him down, shoving him into a dark alley so we wouldn't draw (any more) attention to ourselves. I was on top of him, pinning him down, and I wiped some blood off of my face before tussling the dazed boys hair.

"Nice swing, kiddo. Save it for the good guys though. You want to keep that arm, don't you?" I was dangerously close to him now. I could bite off his ear, spit it out, and he would be powerless. I opened my mouth to bare my teeth, making it look like I was about to do just that. I leaned in closer...

"Boo!"

I shouted, then tumbled off of him, clutching my stomach in laughter. Layne got up into a crouching position, but couldn't help laughing along with me.

What can I say, fights between two laughing psychopaths could be easily forgotten.

Layne, still laughing, tackled me in my weak, belly laugh induced state. He pressed his knife gently against my eyelid.

"Ah, ah. I'm ambidextrous. If I lose my arm, either one, you might just wake up with...a very limited view on things." He pressed a little harder to draw a speck of blood.

The sick part was, he was joking. What was even sicker (funnier!)...was that I knew this.

He leaped off of me.

"You're one sadistic, messed up, creepy individual." I stated, hauling myself off the cold cement of the dark, moldy pathway.

"Well you're one crazy-ass, demented, homicidal excuse for a jester." He shot back, beaming at me.

Layne and I emerged from the alley, bruised and slightly bloody, leaving behind our differences, our misgivings, and our sense of misdirection...ok, so maybe all we left behind was a row of dead bodies a few blocks down, right in front of the drugstore window for all to see...

I suddenly realized we'd left the playing cards, aspirin, and other loot behind, and this sent me on a surge of laughter so strong that Layne had to keep me upright.

When I told him, he let out a sadistic cackle I could be proud of.

All we really ever needed was the thrill of the kill, and the drying blood on our hands.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I just helped kill almost a dozen people...then I put the icing on the maniacal cake by threatening to cut a criminal mastermind and notorious clown's eye out.

And now I was playing cards.

"Ehhhh, go fish!" The Joker cackled, "better yet, go drown in a fishing hole! Ha ha!"

I picked up a card from the pile on the table, and put it in my hand.

"Any Aces, ace?" He asked, slyly. Pissed, I chucked my ace at him.

"Got any Jokers?"

"You mean besides ME?" The Joker grinned, "Nope, NADA!"

Incredible. We were playing a freakin' game of Go Fish, and he was close to hysterics. I refused to admit I was almost ready to laugh along with him. I went to reach for another card from the deck, but as an afterthought threw my hand down on the table instead, causing half of it to slide to the floor.

"Why the HELL are we playing cards, man? This is ridiculous, it's stupid! It's -

"Fun?" The Joker interrupted as my voice went higher and higher.

"Yea, maybe." I grudgingly admitted, before grabbing a random soda can off the cluttered floor, chucking it at his head. He retaliated by throwing something back at me, but hey I expected nothing less.

"OW! Damn it! Was that a...a ROCK??" I exclaimed, picking the offending object off the floor. I rubbed my temple, tossing the big black lump right back at him.

"Actually...it's coal. Santa decided I was being a bad boy."

I let out a dramatic sigh, "you're annoying," I stated

The Joker hooked his foot around the leg of my chair, and yanked forwards, sending me crashing to the floor., "Why thank you!" He exclaimed, faking a girlish swoon.

I ignored it, no matter how...disturbing it was.

"You're TRYING to give me brain damage!"

"Well yes," He said innocently, rising from his own chair to loom over me, "I can't have you becoming sane on me all of a sudden, can I? Gotta keep that brain cell count nice and low." He nodded solemnly, as if sad about it.

I got up off the floor, and as some strange act of kindness put the chair right side up also.

"Oh, so you want our IQ's to match then. I see."

He cackled.

"Nah, I'm done hurting you...for now. I'm bored, lets go find someone to harass, er, torture."

He headed out the door again, and that's when I decided there would be no real chill time living with this guy. But what did I care, my previous living arrangements were definitely no better.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_One week later_.

Layne - oh, that's right, Simon (that was the only thing he answered to now) was sitting on the couch, slouched forward, batting his new knife back and forth with a jugglers ease. He spun it in the air, caught it, and sighed.

"Little bored, Simon?"

"Ya think?" He asked, moody. Normally I would've yanked at his hair or kicked his shin, maybe even knocked him out for such misbehavior, but I'd gotten to know him a little better this past week, and well...I think he enjoyed the pain. I chuckled, and then it quickly turned into a full on giggle fit, causing Simon to look at me with confusion and annoyance, "what's so funny?"

"Oh nothing," I began sweetly, "It's just laughable how much you're beginning to remind me of, ME!"

This seemed to shock him, "I'm not like you, how do I remind you of yourself? That's crazy."

"No, no it's not. WE might be crazy, but you are like me. You are. See, there's one similarity between us already!" I licked my lips, tilting my head upward, as if thinking,

"We're also both...killers, masochists...freaks."

He opened his mouth to protest, and I tossed my knife within a few inches of his face to shut him up. I continued,

"We're both...skilled with the knife." I walked over to him, plucked my knife out of the couch (which was really starting to look tattered- I should really stop nearly killing the kid when he's on it), and sat next to him, turning his face toward mine quickly, ignoring his protests. I put my knife up against his hairline, then trailed the knife playfully all around his face, allowing little beads of blood to appear here and there, like connect the dots. He stopped whimpering by now, stopped yelling curses at me. Instead...he seemed fascinated.

I slid the knife back up to his eye, his bad eye, his _beautiful_ eye, and pressed hard around the edges of his scars, reopening them. The blood trickled all the way down his face to his mouth, so he could taste it; taste his irregularities, his uniqueness.

"We're both tattooed with the hurt in our pasts!" I said, voice thick with insanity, and..did I sound tortured? Hurt? I shocked even myself. As his eyes widened, I knew I had surprised him too. But then they turned dark, and I knew that it was my turn, but I didn't mind.

Simon grabbed his knife, cradled it, and after a few moments brought it up to my grinning face.

That night, our scars we're reopened, and we bled together.

Later, we set out to get some...recruits to work for us, because we we're getting lonesome in this little apartment with no one to boss around, and no one to play with other than each other.

Our twisted laughter echoed in the Gotham streets, and we imagined each chuckle overflowing with blood.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Even I had my dark, dark secrets. And no, they weren't about my father, or how I turned out...the way I am, they were the kind of things that would be charming or pleasant to the "normal" person, but to me were just...sickening.

I paced up and down the sidewalk in front of the bank, knife in hand, pencil behind my ear (just in case). I eventually got to a point of such boredom that I did my own little rendition of an Irish jig, spinning and shuffling like, well, a madman. If anyone had been around on this moonlit eve, I would have shot them. Call it short-lived entertainment. Heh heh.

Layne/Simon was on his first one man bank job, and I decided that if a secret mom-member in there hadn't killed him by now, I would do it myself.

I WOULD do it myself...but you know, kidding myself wasn't as easy as screwing around with a hostage or a temporary employee ( my firing methods often really included the firing of a gun...or flames!) I laughed at the sick thought, proving that I could obviously have a sense of humor, even at the worst of times.

I had a dark, dark, secret, alright. My boy hasn't come back yet, It's been three hours;

And I don't really want to see him dead.

A/N - sorry this chapter isn't the greatest, wrote it with the time I had during vacation up in Maine. Please review anyway!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I was having a good time; filling up burlap sacks with money, cutting up some civilians, until HE showed up. Based on the goofy voice and pointed-eared mask, well, I could tell it was the Batman from the start.

Stupid, stupid bat!! I growled at him as he held me in his sissy grip. Ok, so it was more of a death-grip, but he was still a sissy.

"Who do you work for?" he demanded, gripping me tighter. His fake deep voice was really getting on my nerves. I chuckled and tossed my hair arrogantly.

"Work?" I don't WORK! I was just having some fun!"

I gagged as he heaved me in the air by my chest, nearly crushing my rib cage. I still managed to sound giddy though as I asked mockingly, "who do YOU work for, loser?"

"I work for the citizens of Gotham City." He announced, all important sounding like an idiotic advertizement. I hated him already. I hated him even more when he threw me against the nearest wall. He didn't let go though, and I gasped in pain, shamed at the fact that I could still feel it; and I only enjoyed it a little. Overall, I was just PISSED. I was a new man now, I wasn't going to take this from some demented imitation of Big Bird.

I let a chuckle escape from me, and then it turned into a scream as I started to fiercely, desperately kick out at him. I only stopped minutes later when I realized that during the whole time he barely let out a grunt of pain. Freaking Masochist. Freaking people watching me getting beat up from their little corners like it was a new action flick. Freaking dead guys that I maimed on the floor staring up at me like they weren't even DEAD.

This was getting ridiculous.

* * *

**Joker POV**

THIS was getting RIDICULOUS!

I've had enough of this stupid little boy giving me a most unwanted and untrue panic attack! Hoisting a large gun from my waistband, I used my other hand to wrench my knife out from between my nervously, ANGERLY gnawing teeth. Grumbling a few curses harshly I turned towards the bank, stuck the knife between my teeth again, and took a firm hold on the gun. Then I fired two rounds through the plate-glass window, my arm dancing around in twitching, satisfying way with each pull of the trigger.

I watched the glass shatter, contemplating the fact that I really, really SHOULD be laughing.

But I wasn't because...because I didn't really SEE anyone fall from my manic shots. I didn't see anyone die! It wasn't because I was experiencing some sort of pesky human emotion! No, that wasn't it at all!

I jumped through the shattered window, hop-skipping my way into the bank. Once in the main room, I stopped dead at the scene before me. My lips frozen for a moment over my gleaming knife, until I let it drop into my hand. Overcome with...with something, I snarled like a mad dog, brandishing my knife in a falsely jovial manner.

"Awww, Batsy! I thought I was the only one you held like that!" I mocked, but then my featured darkened as I began to approach the Bat, with his evil hands all over MY boy.

I narrowed my eyes and tsked at him, more threatening then ever,

"where has the_ loyalty_ gone?"


	14. Chapter 14

Layne POV

"Joker!" I managed to cry out from in between the bat's strong and still incredibly annoying grasp. He turned towards the clown and scowled at him.

"I lay my hands on anyone I need to in order to protect this city." The Joker and I cackled simultaneously.

"Oooo, Kinky," I grinned, "Are you this clingy with him too?"

"QUIET!" Big-Bat-The-Idiot roared, " And what about you Joker, you going to come over here and fight me too, or are you going to stand back and watch me take down your competition for you?"

I hissed through my teeth, and scowled, "Competition? What competition? I work WITH the Joker! Right buddy ol' Pal?" I struggled fiercely in his grasp, kicking my feet repetitively at what I quickly realized was a weak spot in the big bird's armor. The Bat seemed to look towards the Joker, his arch enemy, for guidance, and this struck me as so funny I began doubling over with laughter. Well, as best as I could in my touchy-feely prison. Batman threw me down on the ground and shamefully, I cried out.

"What the hell you do that for bat boy? I can go now, huh? Do I have your permission? Idiot." I finished in a mumble as I half scrambled, half crab-walked towards the Joker. The Bat roared his fake voice box roar and shot a death spike at me from his wrist cuff. The sissy. It missed me by a centimeter, and I rolled to dodge it, managing to unsheathe my knife from my pocket in the process. I lay immobile for a moment, too wary to move.

Joker POV

"Alright, alright. ENOUGH!" I roared, almost demonically, then in a crazed near whisper, "enough." I sauntered over towards the Bat, made for attacking him, and reeled back, giggling as he dodged frantically from a blow that never came.

"Lets settle this like we always do Batsy, you beating me to a pulp until I manage to trick you and heroically come out the victor!" I lunged at him so suddenly that I managed to tackle him to the ground and pin him long enough to mockingly whisper in his ear, "that's right, I'm a HERO. Anyone who can pose a challenge to you is a hero. Why, you - your just a menace!" Batsy sprung up from underneath me in a fit of self-righteous rage, sending me sprawling right next to Layne, who looked at me with such fierce determination that I knew he couldn't take just sitting back and watching any longer. Ha. That's my boy. I grabbed his arm and hauled him up brutally as I sprung to my feet with cat like ease.

"You're outnumbered now, Batman." I spat, "Who do you have left to turn to? Who could be of any use to perfect, indispensable, YOU??" I sprinted forwards, knife in hand, and managed to slice through a soft spot in his armor and as a result, a centimeter or two of soft, welcoming flesh. The very same arm came crashing down on my head, and I managed to laugh maniacally even as I saw stars and went flying backwards towards the ground. That's when I heard Layne yell a deep, angry, and wordless scream, and hurl himself at the Batman's waist so fast and so forcefully that wimpy little bat boy fell off his perch and went tumbling down. Layne began punching him with a speed I thought only I could muster, laying two blows directly to Batman's very exposed chin and immediately after having to wrestle down a very persistent bat arm, er wing, before he got clobbered in the head again.

He grinned a twisted grin at me, and then down at his victim, "3, 2, 1, Down!" He cried, patting the ground forcefully in a sick mimicry of a wrestling referee. He snarled and twisted the Bat's arm so fast I heard a brief crackle and then a veeeery satisfying SNAP. And all Gordon's horses and all Harvey's Men, couldn't put Batman together again! This idea struck me as so funny that I decided to go do the boy a favor and help him out again, not that he needed it, but hey, what could a little extra spilled rodent blood hurt? I sauntered over towards them again, even more calmly and mocking than before. Then I brought my foot, extendable knife and all, crashing down on Batman's knee. He had enough dignity to not cry out quite as loud and pathetically as he did the last time as the two of us cackled at the sound of another crunching bone.

"Snap, crackle, POP!" I screeched! "Too bad I don't have any milk to pour over you, I'm sure you wouldn't object to being a tasty high- protein snack to my henchmen at this point. They'd be SO happy. I usually only allow them gruel..." He spat in my eye, and I responded by bringing a fist down HARD on his poor _wittle _knee. I pouted mockingly, "awww, did that hurt? HAHAHAHAAA. Too. Bad."

Layne and I both knew at this point that killing him would be too easy, and so our job was basically done. I acknowledged with one quick look that I would allow him the last bit of fun.

"Simon says 'lights out' Bats," He growled, before delivering a nice right- hook to the humiliated creature's already bloody jaw. The final blow. I grinned as I got up off the ground and brushed off my pants and back casually. I should go buy the kid a shiny new knife later. He deserved it.


	15. Chapter 15

"Wakey wakey Sy!" I mocked, yanking the tattered blankets from underneath the boy and snickering as he turned over, swatted at me and groaned.

"Look, kid, I know you're a ....celebrity now, but that's no need to become a lazy ass so suddenly. GET UP." I boomed the last command so loudly and suddenly that Layne fell off the couch clumsily, letting out a confused cry of "What the-!" as I knelt down beside him and repeatedly wacked him in the head and shoulders with a newspaper. He pulled out his knife from under the couch and half heartedly pointed it at my throat. Well, as much as he could while still squirming around like a strange insect, avoiding my blows.

"Alright, alright, stop! Stop! Come on, man." He cried through a bout of chuckles, rolling away from me and hurling his knife just past my right ear. But it's ok, really, I knew he still luuuurved me. I cackled and then growled, picking him up and hurling him back onto the couch, tossing the newspaper onto his lap.

"What, you don't believe me? You've become the world of crime's new Brittany Spears!"

Layne scowled at me, fixed his shiny pretty boy hair and sat upright, unrolling the newspaper. When he read the headline and saw the picture of himself plastered in the center of the cover, I couldn't blame him for the mixed look of annoyance and pride that shined upon his face.

'SIMON SAY'S?' The top of the paper read, 'Child Villain Rampages Through City, Saved By The Joker' Across the picture of him sprawled on the ground I had written HA in almost every nook and cranny, and across his face I had written in purple marker, "what a dork!"

"Very nice," He drawled sarcastically, "This is why I'm beginning to hate this city. I'm no CHILD! And saved by Joker? No mention on how I helped you take down the stupid bat and then knocked the living daylights out of him??"

"Aww, how sweet, you're my damsel in distress!" I giggled, grunting as he pushed me to the floor with a cry of outrage.

"Stupid publicists, on the bat's side. They wouldn't DARE admit to the weaklings of Gotham that their little vigilante rodent has been injured! UGH."

"Seeing things my way now, huh? That's my boy." I declared, somewhat sarcastically,

"but really, enough of the teenage angst and whining. Here, I'll make it up to you. Want to go track down the journalist who wrote this article so we can kill her?" Layne tilted his head, thought about it for a few seconds, then shrugged and grinned. I took that as a yes.

"Ok, have it your way Simon. Now all we have to do is steal a computer so we can look up the address of this Cynthia Riverclan..."

When we came home that night, lets just say we were up one fancy Dell computer, and fell asleep quickly with the shine and scent of blood still on our hands. Hunting is a difficult, difficult task.


End file.
